The Girl I Like Needs A Safe House
by VickyVicarious
Summary: Safe House' from Rob's POV... Third in my 'The Girl I Like...' series... Contains dialogue from the book... you've heard it all before.
1. Chapter 1

Warning to all first readers: This is the **third **story in a **series**, my "The Girl I Like.." series. I am rewriting the entire 1-800-WHERE-R-YOU series in Rob's POV, and this is the rewrite of _Safe House. _I already rewrote _When Lightning Strikes_ and _Code Name Cassandra_, and you might want to read those stories first. It's not entirely necessary; if you know the books well enough you should be fine, but it's still probably a good idea. They're called _The Girl I Like Was Struck By Lightning_, and _The Girl I Like Is Code Named Cassandra_.

Hey, guys! Yes, as I've promised, here's the start of SH. Just a warning before I begin: I have several tests scheduled for several classes in the next week or so, so you might not be able to expect the usual chapter-a-day. Just warning you now. But they should still be at least every other day or so.

Not the best story name, but I have a theme and, according to my friend Cathy, it's better than the other one I had in mind, so... yeah. This is just an introductory chapter, of course. No events that are actually in the book, but it ends right before Rob shows up in SH chapter 10.

Oh, and a response for the anonymous review I got for the last chapter of TGILICNC, just in case you're still reading (I'm guessing so):

**Lollipop:** Trust me, I'm flattered. Seriously. And please... try to say it. Use lots of adjectives and titles too, those are always good. ;) Oh, and as to your last **statement, not question** - hey, you were right! Here it is, partially thanks to your statement, BTW. Enjoy :)

* * *

She was home for three days before I even knew she was here.

Jess Mastriani, of course, is the 'she'. She didn't come home after that camp, because she went to Ruth's summer home, and I guess once she was gone, I just lost track of the time. So I didn't realize when she got home.

Oh, sure, that shouldn't be a big deal. I know that. Why should I care that I missed her for three days? After all, it wasn't like I was still in high school anymore. I had no reason to know that school was starting.

And I hadn't called her house in over a month; if fact, I'd only called it once and that was before I heard about her going with Ruth. Once I heard, I decided I'd just wait until she got home, and then she could call me.

Jess was always the one who called me _before_, why should it be any different now?

I had honestly expected that, as soon as Jess got back, she'd call me, or come down to the garage and say hi, like she used to, last spring. So, it came as a big shock to me when I heard she'd been back for three days.

Of course, maybe it had something to do with the _way_ I found out. Yeah, my mom told me, in the middle of dinner, completely nonchalantly.

"Actually," she'd said, in the middle of a story about work, and how the head chef always arranges the toppings on a pizza for a certain table into a heart if a couple sits there, because it's the most romantic spot in Mastriani's – my mom works there as a waitress – "That reminds me… You know who I saw there today?"

I just looked at her, highly doubting I'd be interested in who came and sat at the 'Date Table', as it's apparently called. And I wasn't, not when she started talking, anyway.

"She was there with this nice boy. He was very polite." I just nodded, not really paying attention, taking another bite of my spaghetti. And of course, the moment I started chewing, Mom added, "I just thought might mention that I'd seen Jess – that is how she prefers to be called, right? Jess – It was really nice to see her again. I can see why you like her."

I choked on my food, and started coughing heavily. "What – Jess – Why – "

Mom just smiled innocently at me, when I finally managed to stop coughing. I stared at her suspiciously. I had no idea what she was thinking; my mom can keep a perfectly blank face when she wants to, a habit I've inherited. It's nice and all – and a lot of the time, very useful around Jess – but it's a little annoying when she turns it around on me, because it always seems like she can see right through me.

"Mastriani's back? When… when did that happen? Did she call while I was at work?"

Mom shook her head, smiling at me with something like pity. "No, honey, she hasn't called. And I don't know when she got back, but Ernie Pyle started on yesterday, on Monday, Rob."

"But – she… wait…" I was completely confused. It was Tuesday – late Tuesday night (my mom works the dinner shift, so we eat _our_ dinner late). "Are you _sure_ she didn't call?"

Mom shook her head.

"Oh…" I sighed, with a sinking heart. Okay. So Jess had finally given up. That – that was fine. Really. I was just… It wasn't exactly… Oh, god, I just hadn't expected her – I hadn't actually _wanted_ her to!

But… it was a good thing that she had. I couldn't try to stop her, or anything. That would be… well, it would be pretty stupid of me. I mean, I'd just gotten exactly what I'd been trying for for almost a year now; Mastriani to leave me alone.

So why did it hurt so much?

I nodded. "Oh… That's cool. Thanks for, you know, letting me know."

Mom smiled at me, amused, and we went back to eating dinner, and chatting about various things. After dinner, I washed the dishes, and then I went up to my room, planning on reading a new spy novel. But something kept nagging at me.

For the longest time, I had no idea what it was. I finally had to throw down the book, and go out into the barn, to work on the '64 Harley I've been rebuilding. It's almost done, but tinkering with bikes always relaxes me. I was hoping – at the time – that working on it would help me figure out what was bothering me.

And, okay, the moment I walked into the barn I though of Jess, but that was just because I'd had to spend the night out in the barn with Sean Patrick O'Hanahan, the first kid she'd ever found, last spring.

And really, a _lot_ of things make me think of Jess lately. I can't go to work without being reminded of the times she'd come and visit me, sitting on a tool bench and talking to my boots as I worked on a car, occasionally handing me tools. Every time I get on my Indian, my mind snaps to her, riding it behind me, for a few seconds until I managed to shake it off. Driving past Lumbley Lane – well, that's obvious. Eating in the kitchen, I remember the time she ate breakfast here – hell, even in my _bedroom_ I can't help but be reminded of her, because she slept in my bed one night, the night when Sean and I slept in the barn.

So, when I thought about Jess as soon as I started working on the Harley, I didn't think it was anything, really. I mean, okay, so she'd finally given up on the idea of going out with me. And I was upset about that. But I could accept it. It was fine, even if it hadn't really sunk in yet. That wasn't what was niggling at me, annoying me and making me feel like I'd missed something.

I'd finished working on the bike for the night – it was getting late, technically tomorrow already – and gone inside to take a shower by that point, still thinking hard.

But what else could it be? Aside from the fact that Mastriani was back and was no longer interested in dating, there wasn't any – wait a minute.

Dating. The Date Table.

_She was there with this really nice boy…_

Wait a minute. Mastriani was back – okay, so I could handle that. She didn't… didn't like me anymore? That… that one I wasn't doing so good with, but I could deal, really. But…

She was already dating other people! Other _guys?_ How could she?

I mean, the entire reason I'd been so relaxed about her still in high school, where there were plenty of single guys her age, was because none of them liked her! Not that I'd really be able to do anything if they had, but…

She went out with another guy?

That was what I asked my mom, once I finished my shower and got dressed, although not in those words.

"Hey, Mom…" I said, glad she hadn't gone to sleep yet. Normally, she would have, but I guess she was off tomorrow.

"Yeah? What is it, Rob?"

She was reading a book in bed, and she folded it closed, looking at me, as she waited for me to continue. I cleared my throat, awkwardly. "Uh… you said you saw J – Mastriani today, right?"

She nodded, starting to smile. I looked at my feet. "So, uh, didn't you mention something about…? She was, uh, with somebody?"

I looked up when she answered, then glanced away at the wall, embarrassed. "That's right," Mom smiled. "A nice young boy… I put them at the Date Table."

Date Table. Right.

"Okay," I said. "That's all… Uh, good night, Mom."

When I looked at her, she looked as if she was trying not to laugh.

I closed the door and went to my room, where I stood, frozen, for about two minutes, until I couldn't handle it anymore.

I was gone before another five minutes had passed, driving down the dark highway toward her house.

I was going to pay Jess a little visit.


	2. Chapter 2

Not the longest chapter ever, I know, but if I went any farther I'd have to get into the whole Heather-rescue and I think that should be a chapter (or two) all on it's own. Enjoy!

* * *

The next thing I knew, I was in Jess's backyard, throwing pebbles up at her window in the light of the moon.

The exact moment I realized this, I went through a short thought process about three steps long.

** 1) **_What the hell am I doing here? I can't just come visit her!_

** 2) **_Besides, she wouldn't want me to. She doesn't like me anymore._

** 3) **_Yeah, and she's __**already**__ dating! What the hell? I need to talk to her!_

And then it repeated. Once. Twice. Three times –

"Skip," an angry voice hissed down at me, and I looked up to see Jess silhouetted in her window. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Go home!"

"Who's Skip?" I hissed back, and I saw Jess freeze for a second as she realized who I was. She stepped back away from the window, disappearing from my sight. What, she was just going to _ignore_ me?

"_Mastriani_," I hissed, louder, more urgently, and just a little angry. Jess came back into sight and stuck her head up against the screen.

"Stay there. I'll be right down."

Then she stepped back out of my sight once more, presumably on her way down to see me.

I walked forward, onto her front porch, as I waited. Now that I was here, and Jess was on her way down, I had no idea what I was doing. I mean, what could I really even say? We hadn't been dating in the first place; it wasn't like she was cheating on me.

What the hell could I say?

Before that question was ever answered, however, Jess completely blew me out of the water by coming out onto the porch, seeing me, and jumping up to give me a hug with a big grin on her face.

_Oh._

I just stood there, completely shocked. So wait, she _did_ still like me, right? I mean, why else would she just hug me like that? I kind of stared at her for a moment before I spoke. "Well," I said, still shocked at having the wind taken from my righteous-anger sails. "Hey. Nice to see you too."

Which, apparently, wasn't a very nice thing to say, if the way she instantly let go, dropping to the ground, was any indication. But I'd been _surprised_, okay!

…And now she was waiting for me to say something. But the hug had kind of ruined my previous game plan. Granted, that was to just blurt something out, but now I had even _less_ idea what to say.

"Did I wake you up?" I asked awkwardly. What do people normally say when they visit girls at two in the morning? They usually don't talk, that's what. And… now that I knew she wasn't, you know, done with me, I couldn't do that. Because we can't date.

Yeah, I know. I was confusing even myself.

"Um, yeah," Mastriani nodded, giving me a look that clearly said, _Duh, you idiot._

"Sorry." I shoved my hands in my pockets, for lack of a better place to put them. Like, in my hair. Or, maybe, touching her. Because both of those would be bad.

Talk, Rob, talk! Say something! A reason for being here in the middle of the night! "I just found out you were back in town. My mom said you came into the restaurant tonight. Or last night, I guess."

Jess's eyes widened, like something I'd said horrified her, but she quickly added, "Yeah, I got back Sunday night. I had to. You know. School. It started on Monday."

Yeah, okay, I'm dumb. But at least she didn't _say_ it.

"I know," I said, still kind of awkwardly, but at least the subject had changed away from 'what the hell are you doing here?' and that was always good. "I mean, I figured it out tonight, that of course school must have started again. Last week of August and all. It's just that when you aren't going anymore, it's kind of hard to keep track."

Oh, thank you God, she's smiling. No longer mad at me – and that must be _why_ she hadn't called yet. She was waiting for me.

God, I'm dumb sometimes.

Except… If that was true, what about the guy? The date-table guy. You don't just go out with some other guy because the first one hasn't called you yet! …Right?

"So, who's the guy?" I asked, because frankly I had to know. I was driving myself insane. And I needed to know if I had to hit someone… like a certain 'nice young man'. At the moment, I felt pretty willing to do so.

"Guy?" Jess echoed, staring at me. Crap. _She_ couldn't know that I was jealous. That wasn't allowed. That would be putting us right back into date-type territory, and while I'd rather _we_ were in date-territory than her and some random guy, that didn't mean I wanted to be in it myself.

Really. I didn't.

"Yeah," I said, trying incredibly hard to keep my face – and voice – blank. She could _not_ know. "The one my mom saw you with."

"Oh, _that_ guy," she kind of chuckled. "That's just, um, Mark."

Neutral. Neutral. Neutral.

I ran a hand through my hair nervously and asked, "Mark?" I had to swallow before I could continue. "Yeah? You like him? This Mark guy?"

Damn it.

Jess just stared at me for a long, long moment. Oh, well this was just _great_. It was obvious what her answer was. And that was why she'd hugged me; she probably was going to say some crap about she "wanted to be friends".

Screw that.

I was _not_ just going to sit there and let her tell me she was going out with some other guy! If I had to actually let her know that I cared – god, I could do that. Yeah. I mean, I really should respect her choice. But, I mean, I couldn't just let her…

If she said, "We can still be friends," I was going to kiss her, just to prove her wrong.

I was fully prepared to do this – but fortunately (or unfortunately; it really depends on your point of view) I never had to. Because the next words out of Mastriani's mouth were: "Look, it's not what you think. Mark's girlfriend is the one who turned up dead on Sunday. I just went out with him to, you know, talk. The Feds are after thim, now, see, so we have a lot in common."

While at the same time a great relief, her answer prompted me to immediately reach out and start shaking her. Because, you know, it's great that my g- _Jess_ didn't like the other guy she went out with, really. But it's not a whole lot better if he was a murderer, even if she didn't plan on a second date.

"Mark Leskowski?" I demanded. "You went out with Mark Leskowski? Are you nuts? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"No," Jess said, "He didn't do it."

Apparently shaking didn't have any positive effect on her mental capabilities, so I quit in disgust, throwing my hands up in the air. "Bullshit! Everyone knows he did it. Everyone except you, apparently."

"Shh!" Jess glanced behind her nervously. "Do you want to wake my parents up? That's the last thing I need, them finding me out on the front porch in the middle of the night with – "

Okay, that hurt. "Hey," I glared at her. "At least I'm not a murderer!"

"Neither is Mark," Jess insisted.

"Says you."

"No, says everyone." Mastriani sighed, as if _I_ was being the unreasonable one. Hey, _I_ wasn't the one who'd decided it was a good idea to go for a candlelit dinner-date with a _murderer!_ "I know he didn't kill Amber, Rob, because while we were out together, another girl disappeared, Heather – "

Jess cut herself off, sucking in a horrified breath, all exasperation suddenly gone from her face, replaced with pure fear.

"What is it?" I asked, grabbing her arm. Despite my worry, I couldn't help but feel a shock where our skin touched. "What's wrong, Jess? Are you all right?"

Jess stared blankly at me for a moment, breathing a little too quickly. "I am," she said. "But Heather Montrose isn't."

Then she shivered, her eyes wide and horrified. And I knew:

This was going to be _bad_.


	3. Chapter 3

Hi guys. Sorry about the delay - but hey, I warned you! Anyway, this chapter basically deals with all of Chapter 11 from the book, nothing more. I originally planned on writing all of Heather's rescue as just one chapter, but it started getting kind of long... and frankly, my fingers are tired. I've been doing homework/studying all weekend. I just can't write any more right now. But I hope you like it, anyway. Here it finally is.

To my loyal anonymous reviewer:

**Jade:** Hero, really? That is freaking high praise. As is all the adjectives that follows it. I'm so glad you actually took my advice and included some! warm fuzzy moment I'll tell you what you'd do without them: You'd go into a loss-of-Rob meltdown and be reduced to reading and rereading all of the original series countless times, searching for Rob and _trying_ to discern what he might possibly be thinking, all the while weeping and saying, "Oh, TGIL series, I miss you so!" **That's **what you'd do. ...Or, you know, you could just get mad at me for not writing anymore. But the first one sounds so much more fun! And your other comments... Who **doesn't** love Rob? I'm serious, is there anyone in all the world who doesn't like Rob - and even more so, who doesn't like Rob **jealous?** I highly doubt it. As for in character... Well, that just deserves an emphatic **THANK YOU**. Frankly I don't know how I do it either, and I'm convinced that the events from the books all really happened in an alternate universe, and Rob is telepathically telling me his side of the story across the void, because Meg Cabot already gave Jess voice. No, really. It could happen. ...Keep reviewing! :) - VV

* * *

"Come on," Jess said, rushing past me down the steps. "We've got to get to her, before it's too late."

"Get to whom?" I trailed after her, slightly confused and hoping that the 'her' wasn't who I thought it was. But of course, I was proved wrong the moment Jess spoke.

"Heather. Heather Montrose." Of course. "She's the girl who disappeared this afternoon. I think I know where she is. We've got to get to her, now, before – "

I didn't like the sound of that. Especially since the last missing girl had been found dead. "Before what?"

Mastriani's expression got distant and horrified again, and she swallowed audibly. "Before he comes back."

The fear in her voice – it scared me. Jess was never _afraid_ of things. What could possibly scare her so much? "Before who comes back? Jess, just what, exactly, did you see?"

The moment I said that, I regretted it, because at those words, Jess shivered and her eyes shone with fear. I stopped next to her, and she reached out and clutched my arm desperately, moaning, "We've got to go," with almost a sob in her voice. "We've got to go _now_."

Now I was seriously worried, all thoughts of Mark and my relationship issues completely forgotten. All I knew was that Jess was scared and desperate, and she needed my help.

"Okay," I said, prying her hand off my arm and cupping it in my own hands. "Okay, whatever you say. You want to go find her? We'll go find her. Come on. My bike's over here."

Jess just followed me blindly, not saying a word, but clinging to my hands as if her life depended on it. I'd never seen her like this before, and I wished I'd never have to again. It was agonizing, seeing Jess – normally the strongest person I know – reduced to this state.

I wrapped her up in my extra leather jacket and helped her put my spare helmet on, once we reached the bike. She just kind of stood there and let me, staring off down the dark street.

I wanted to put my foot down and demand to know what was going on, and not leave until she told me. I wanted drive her off to my house and keep her there, out of harm's way, until whatever was going on blew over. I wanted to hug her and tell her it would all be okay.

I got on the Indian and waited until she climbed on behind me, trying to keep my voice even and calm. It wouldn't help Jess any if I freaked out, too. And that was all I _really_ wanted to do.

Help her.

"Okay, all set?" I asked, and she nodded, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist – so tightly that it almost hurt, but I didn't mind. I think she needed the contact.

After a few silent moments, I spoke again. "Uh, Mastriani?"

Jess took an audible breath behind me. "Yeah?" She almost stuttered. I could feel her pressing even closer to me, pressing her head hard against my shoulder, and I wished again that I could just _fix this_.

"Where are we going?"

"Oh, P-Pike's Quarry." Jess's voice quivered and she actually _did_ stutter this time.

I swallowed, but nodded, and lifted my foot.

It didn't take us long to get there. This is a relatively small town, after all, and it was two AM, so it wasn't like we ran into anyone else on the way there.

Well, not until we passed that cop right near Pike's Quarry. He was there, of course, because of the girl who had been found dead there, and the girl that was now missing. Heather.

The girl we were here to find.

I slowed down instinctively as I passed him – I really don't trust the cops since I was arrested, especially with stuff that involves Jess, and I didn't want a ticket on top of everything – and it wasn't until we were a little ways past him that I realized we might want him along.

So I waited until we were out of sight, and then I pulled to a stop by the side of the road, but I didn't kill the engine. "You want to ask him to join us?" I asked Jess.

She shook her head. "Not yet. I'd rather… I want to make sure first." Neither of us had removed our helmets, so I couldn't really see her face, but I _knew_ that she had that haunted look again.

"All right," was all I said. I was letting Jess call the shots right now. "Where to now?"

Wordlessly, Jess pointed into the woods.

Now, I'm no coward – but driving off-road through the middle of a forest at two in the morning hunting a girl kidnapped (most likely) by the same people that had killed her friend not even a week ago, in the same general area where the first murder happened? That was like leading two kids to a house made of candy in the middle of the forest and telling them to wait in the oven for the owner to arrive.

_Insane_ and probably fatal.

But I didn't say any of this, because if nothing else, what had happened over the summer had proved to me that Jess would do what was necessary to save the people in her visions, with or without me. And I was _not_ letting her go in there alone.

So I just sighed and said, "Great," in an unenthusiastic way. Then I readied myself, and told Jess, "Hold on."

And I drove right into the woods.

It was slow, what with all the pine needles, and I could barely see six feet in front of me – never mind ten. But Jess directed me, pointing whenever she wanted me to change directions, and eventually we ended up in a place I recognized, or at least had heard of.

I've never been a fan of Pike's Quarry, but anyone who lives this far out of town has gone there at least a couple of times when they were kids, at least until they realized that, yeah, the swimming pool might cost money to get into, but at least there was no danger of getting stabbed in the leg by a sunken tractor, or getting sick from the polluted water. I'd realized this fact long ago, and I'd never really come back – but I still knew the area, and I'd heard about the creepy shack at the end of the pit road, even if I'd never been down there. It used to be a favorite for ghost stories.

So when Jess directed me onto a semi-cleared area, and we pulled up in front of an abandoned, broken-down house, I knew where we were.

But I'd never actually _been_ there before, and as I stared at the house from the bike, I couldn't help but say, "You have got to be kidding me."

Well, can you blame me? It looked like a haunted house ride at an amusement park – minus the 'mood music' and skeletons, anyway. But it did have the rotten wood, the broken windows, the DANGER – KEEP OUT sign, the menacing feel… I wasn't looking forward to entering it. And I could suddenly see very well how a bunch of nine-year-old kids would dare each other to go touch it, but never actually do so, or make up ghost stories about it.

"No," Jess shook her head, taking off her helmet, and got off the Indian. "She's in there. Somewhere."

I sat there for another moment, just looking at the house. Then I sighed, and took off my helmet too. "Is she dead? Or alive?" I didn't really want to ask, but I… don't really do well with blood, and I'm willing to guess that dead bodies wouldn't be great for me either. I wanted to be prepared.

"Alive." Then Jess shivered and hunched her shoulders a little. "I think."

I really didn't want to know what kind of injuries might cause that reaction. "Is anybody in there with her?"

I couldn't see her all too well in the little moonlight that made it's way through the trees, but I could still see her expression change from horrified and distant to… well, to horrified and kind of scared. "I don't… I don't know."

I looked back at the house, wondering if Jess would hate me forever if I picked her up, set her down on the bike, and drove far, far away that very instant.

I decided she would.

"Okay." I stood, and went to the storage compartment on the back of my bike, hunting for a few specific items. Luckily, I always make sure to keep good care of my bike, and that includes keeping some supplies in the back – like an extra jacket and helmet, some water and food (strawberry Nutrigrains, because they last and I actually like them), and some spare tools in case anything breaks down.

I took out my flashlight and one of the said tools. A lug wrench, to be exact.

Jess stared at it with wide eyes, and I shrugged. "It never hurts to be prepared." Granted, when I'd put it there I was being more prepared for something to break on the road than for needing it to knock out a kidnapper/murderer in the middle of the night… but still.

Jess just nodded meekly.

"Okay." I shut the compartment lid and turned back to Jess quickly, making sure I was also facing the house. Hey, they could be in there. "Here's how it's going to go down. I'm going to go in there and look around. If you don't hear from me in five minutes – oh, here, take my watch – you get on this bike and you go for that cop car we saw. Understand?"

If I had hoped that my firm manner and the way she'd been acting lately (not to mention the fact that she accepted my watch) might convince her to actually listen to me for once – and I had – I was wrong.

"No," Jess said, nervous but firm. "I'm coming with you."

I glared at her. Like _hell_.

"Mastriani, wait here. I'll be all right."

"I don't want to wait here." Jess glanced around her at the woods, before looking back at me. "I want to come with you."

On any other occasion, hearing Jess say that might have made me happy. I would glare at her anyway, and tell her no, of course, but secretly, I would be glad.

Right now I was _anything_ but glad.

"Jess, don't do this," I told her, barely not begging – but also barely not yelling.

Jess just shook her head again, hugging herself inside my coat. "I'm coming with you," she insisted, her voice breaking.

But I just shook my head. This was one point on which I would remain firm, no matter _what_. "Jess," I told her, "You are staying here with the bike, and that's final."

And I really thought it was. I thought that there was _nothing_ Jess could ever _possibly_ say that would make me want to invite her into that house.

"And what if," she asked me, voice throbbing with emotion, "they come back – if they aren't in there now – and find me out here all alone?"

Until that.

Don't call me a fool. I _knew_ that the odds were at the very least 70-30 against that happening. But just the fact that it _could_ – that it was even _possible_ – just knowing that had me sighing, and hooking the lug wrench into my belt loops, so I could reach out and grab Mastriani's hand.

"Come on," I told her, still somewhat angry, and I began leading her toward the house. Jess gripped tightly to my hand when we climbed the squeaky, half-rotten front steps, and I couldn't help but grip back, not exactly confident myself and appreciating the support.

The door had obviously originally been nailed shut, but when I lifted my hand – the one with the flashlight in it, not the one holding Jess's – and pushed on it, it swung open easily, recently pried open.

I shone my flashlight into the pitch black beyond, and muttered, "I have a really bad feeling about this."

But I stepped through anyway, gripping even tighter onto Jess's hand, and shining the light around.

The first thing I saw was sticks, and animal droppings, and leaves and cobwebs, all the usual signs of animals living in the abandoned house. But just seconds later, I saw the proof of more a human presence, in the form of beer bottles and chip bags, not to mention the alluring scent of puke on the air.

"Nice," I said, disgusted, and let go of Mastriani's hand to pick up one of said bottles, examining the label. I couldn't help but be a little relieved by what I saw there.

"Imported," I told Jess. "Townies." I was just glad that this meant there was absolutely no chance of any of my friends doing this. Not that I'd ever suspected them – but it was nice to have proof. Still, I couldn't help myself from a sarcastic, "It figures."

I mean, really, who would you have expected to hang out in such a disgusting hole in the middle of the woods? Would it be the pampered rich kids or the poor ones? I know what most Townies would say. But it was just like Pike's Quarry itself – despite most of them all having their own swimming pools or at least memberships to the country club, it was only _Townies_ who went there. It made no sense whatsoever.

Jess and I moved on, walking through a kitchen on our way to the third room. Both contained a plethora of bottles, and the third room had a _keg_ sitting in the middle of a fireplace.

I raised an eyebrow at it. "Someone didn't care whether or not he got his deposit back."

Maybe it wasn't the time to be cracking jokes or making witticisms, but frankly I was worried about whatever we might find, and my dread grew with every new room we walked into that didn't contain Heather.

Suddenly Jess gripped hard on my hand, and I looked at her quizzically, before following her gaze to the rickety staircase. "Of course," I sighed. "Let's go."

We walked up slowly and carefully, trying to avoid breaking straight through the old wood, and as we walked higher, a steady dripping noise caught my attention. I had been able to hear it in the background the entire time we'd been in the house, but now it was relatively loud in the silence that surrounded us – Jess hadn't spoken since we stepped inside.

The first room Mastriani and I checked was obviously a bedroom, with a mattress covered in stains lying on the floor. As we stepped inside to look around, our feet crunching something caught my attention, and I shone the flashlight down to reveal condom wrappers literally covering the floor. I had never been more thankful for thick motorcycle boots.

"Well, at least they're practicing safe sex," I commented.

We barely even stepped into the second room, which was just like the first, minus the mattress. All it had were a few ragged old blankets. I noticed Jess breathing deeply, as though trying not to vomit.

I didn't blame her.

Finally, we found ourselves at the last room in the house, and the source of the dripping noise. I reached out to open the door, saying, "Must be the bathroom."

"No," Jess said, letting go of my hand and stepping in front of me. "No. Let me do it."

She obviously knew something about what was behind this door, and whatever it was, it as making her both determined, and more terrified than I had ever seen her.

I looked at her, wanting to take her back outside, to spare her for what she would soon see – whatever that was – but I couldn't. Mastriani _needed_ to do this; I could see it the way she stood in front of me, shivering nervously, but not budging.

"Sure," I said slowly, "…if you want to."

Jess took a deep breath, gripping the doorknob hard for a long moment – and then turned it, shoving it inwards.

And I saw. Beyond the door, the dark, tiny hellhole, with the ancient toilet causing the dripping we'd been hearing since we stepped inside. The bathtub, all the way across the room.

And in it, the girl curled into herself, hair wild, a tight gag forcing her to grin around it, wrists and ankles tied, purple and white cheerleading uniform the only thing that clearly identified her as the girl who had been missing since yesterday afternoon.

Heather Montrose.

I froze, staring at her, even as Jess said, in a horrified, teary voice, "Oh, Heather. I'm so sorry."

I had been right.

This was _bad._


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, guys. I'm back. Sorry about the delay, again, but I'm officially entering the 'let's all assign tests at the same time because it's so much **fun!**' stage of the first semester, and I just don't have the time/energy to work on TGILNASH as much as I'd like. Sorry. :(

**Jade: **I love that word too... What a coincidence. Huh. And first to read, congrats! ...Awesome, that's always, always good, especially when critical people say so. And yeah, I'm a lucky ducky all right. Thank you Rob! ... I suppose you would choose the second. (sigh) I can see you lack a sense of the dramatic. :) ... As to your question, yes I am in college, but I'm not majoring in writing, due to a lack of writing major at my college. I am, however minoring in creative writing, so... yeah. That answers that. :)

Hope you guys love it and review a lot! Enjoy!

* * *

I went into a sort of daze, staring blankly at Heather, aiming the flashlight at her face. I mean, I've been in my fair share of fights and all, despite my uncomfortableness with blood, but it's different seeing a victim.

Out of the fight itself, everything is different. Once the adrenaline is gone, then the spot where the other guy punched you really hurts rather than just making you angry, and the blood on his lip makes you queasy rather than triumphant. I know that. I've _experienced _that. But this – this took it to a whole new level.

The people who had done this, they hadn't done it in a rush of adrenaline and anger. This was premeditated, _cold._ This was… This was sickening in an entirely new way. The sheer _cruelty_ it would take, to treat anyone like this, to just tie them up and _leave_ them here, in this dank hole, to die at their leisure…

"Jesus," I said out loud, still staring.

And that was when Jess said my name. "Rob. Hold the light over here, will you?"

She was sitting inside the tub with Heather, trying to untie the strip of dirty fabric that was gagging her and cutting into her mouth. I moved the light over to where she asked, still staring. I hadn't even noticed her moving.

Maybe it was because Jess had known what we would find; maybe it was because she'd already panicked and then gotten over it and was now prepared to do what was necessary. Maybe that was why she was handling this better than me. Maybe she _could_ just handle it better than me.

I couldn't look away.

"Heather," Jess said, finally having yanked the gag off. "Are you all right?"

Heather just let her head limply roll around, staring blankly at the wall, even as Jess started to struggle with the knots at her wrists.

And that was when I snapped out of it.

I may not have been prepared to see the abused girl tied up in the bathtub; I may not even have been able to handle it. But that had nothing to do with it; Jess needed my help, and so did Heather. It didn't matter how _I _felt about it, the fact of the matter was, I couldn't just stand there and stare, I needed to _help._

"Here," I said, and handed Jess my Swiss Army knife to cut the ropes at her wrists. Once they were free from behind her back, one of them dangled limply, obviously broken.

I swallowed.

Of course, Heather herself didn't seem to feel it. She just curled up, shivering and whimpering. I took my coat off and draped it over her, but of course it didn't make a difference.

"I think she's in shock," I said, and Jess nodded.

"Yeah." We both just stared at her for another second, and then Jess knelt close to her, trying to get her attention. "Heather? Heather, can you hear me? Listen, it's all right. Everything is going to be all right."

She completely ignored Jess, and I finally tried my hand at helping. "Heather, you're safe now. Look, can you tell us who did this? Can you tell us who did this to you, Heather?"

I don't know what I expected – as if she'd just have a nice list of names and addresses for us, or that asking her who hurt her would make her feel any better – but it actually did work. Just not quite the way I'd hoped.

"Go away," she moaned brokenly, trying to shove Jess away from her with her good arm. "Go away before they come back… and find you here…"

I looked up, and Jess met my eyes. It was obvious from her expression that she, just like I, had forgotten about the people who had done this, and that they might be back to finish the job anytime. I hadn't been eager to have Jess in here _before_ I'd seen Heather, and now I sure as hell wasn't okay with it.

"It's all right, Heather," soothed Jess, "Even if they do come back, they can't take on all three of us." Like Heather would be any good, in her broken state.

"Yes, they can," the cheerleader sobbed, "Yes, they can, yes, they can, yes, they can, yes…"

I was staring at her again, oddly hypnotized. And just a tad worried.

"Listen," I heard Jess say, and I tore my gaze away from the sobbing girl to look up at her. "You've got to go get that cop. The one by the turnoff? Tell him to call an ambulance."

I blinked at her – and suddenly, I was completely back in control of myself. It might seem odd, considering that there was a more-than-half dead cheerleader in shock in front of me and murderers quite possibly about to pop up at any second – but Jess was trying to get _me_ to go for help? _Me?_

"Are you crazy?" I asked her, my voice really strong for the first time since we'd entered the bathroom. "You're the one who's going for the cop."

"Rob," Jess said, darting a look at Heather, who was still sobbing and whispering, "Yes, they can, yes, they can…", rocking back and forth a little.

"I am staying here with Heather. You are going for the cops." Jess sounded like she was trying to remain calm.

I, on the other hand, didn't have to try. I _was_ calm; utterly and perfectly calm and determined. Jess was going to go get the cop. I knew it. It was as simple as that.

"So you can get your arm broken like hers when they – whoever _they_ are – come back?" I shook my head. "Nuh-uh. I'm staying. You're going."

"Rob," Jess tried once more, "No offense, but I think she'd be better off with someone she – "

Someone she knows, right? Well, she was only one grade below me, after all. We'd crossed paths occasionally. Never actually _spoken_, but then, I doubted she and Jess had frequently, either. Mastriani's arguments were getting weak – and frankly, I wasn't arguing. I was informing - no, _ordering_.

"And you'll be better off when you're miles away from here," I interrupted her, and I reached out to grab her by the elbow, pulling her from the tub. "Come on."

It was surprisingly easy to drag Jess away, and I had the feeling she wasn't really resisting. She didn't want to be here any more than I did; it was just her weird sense of duty that was trying to hold her back, but secretly, I know she was grateful to me for making her leave.

"You follow our tracks," I told her, pointing at the dark ground once I'd gotten her outside. "The tracks we made through the pine needles. See them? Follow those back to the road, then make a left. Got it? And do not stop. Do not stop for anything. When you find the guy, tell him to take the old pit road. Okay?" At each question Jess gave a tiny nod. "The pit road. If he's local, he'll know what you're talking about."

As I spoke, I had shoved my helmet onto Jess's head, and she climbed onto the Indian without any more protest. Well, I mean, she was talking about how this was a bad idea and I should really be the one going, but it was muffled enough by the helmet that it was easy to ignore, and she _had_ gotten on. Besides, I was too busy trying to reach around her to start the engine.

I got it on my second try, and pulled back a little to say, loudly, "Don't stop. Do not stop for anyone not in uniform, understand?"

"But Rob," Jess said, no longer protesting, but just sounding worried, "I've never ridden on a motorcycle alone before. I'm not sure I know how."

"You'll be fine," I reassured her.

"Um. I hesitate to mention this, but I think you should know. I don't exactly have a driver's license yet – "

"Don't worry about it," I interrupted Jess again, "Just go."

And then, before she could argue any more, I stepped back, letting go of the brake. Jess automatically leaned forward, grabbing the handles and beginning to drive so she didn't fall over, and she was gone from sight in seconds. I could still hear the engine for a little while longer, but soon that faded away too, and I finally turned to go back to Heather.

The house was doubly creepy alone, without a jacket on. I'm not sure why, but just having a jacket on makes me feel a lot more secure. Walking back up those stairs in just my t-shirt, I had to fight to keep from turning around or rubbing the spot on the nape of my neck that kept prickling.

Heather had at least stopped muttering – for the most part, sometimes she still said how they were coming, and we'd all be sorry – by the time I got back, but she was still curled up in the fetal position, and it looked like she hadn't moved at all. Unfortunately, I'm really not an expert when it comes to medicine, so all I could really do was sit down on the edge of the bathtub and watch her. I did adjust my jacket so it covered her more thoroughly, but I somehow doubt that that action healed her any.

So we just sat there, in the semi-darkness of the bathroom – I had left the flashlight up with Heather when I dragged Jess back downstairs, and she was now clutching it in her hands, obstructing the light somewhat, though I wasn't gonna take it from her – for god-knows-how long, waiting for the sirens.

I didn't know how long it really was, because I'd given Jess my watch, but it felt like a year, and I felt that much more sympathy for Heather, locked up in here, all alone and injured, for hours upon hours. No wonder she was latching on to that flashlight.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I heard an engine. It wasn't that loud – but there were no other sounds to be heard in that house, and I was straining my ears for it.

I leaned back from Heather – I had been talking to her, telling her how things were going to be fine, Jess was going for help – and told her, "Okay, Heather. Help's arrived."

She just whimpered.

I knew that the engine I'd heard had to be the policeman Jess and I had passed earlier – it was really the only thing that made sense – but I still kept my hand on the wrench hanging from my belt as I walked outside. I hadn't, in fact, let go of it, since I had gone back into the house.

Luckily, it really _was_ Jess and the cop we'd seen, and I relaxed as soon as I saw them, letting my hand drop down. Of course, seconds later, both hands were in the air, as the policeman was on his knee in the dirt, aiming a gun at me and yelling, "Freeze!"

I fought back the urge to yawn.

Call me crazy, but having a gun pointed at my heart really just didn't faze me. Maybe it was the fact that I knew he wouldn't shoot me, or maybe I was just still stunned by what I'd seen, but whatever it was, it allowed me to raise an eyebrow at the deputy, completely calm.

"Dude," Jess told him, "that's my boyfriend! He's – he's one of the good guys!"

_Boyfriend._

Now, why did that one word make me ten times more nervous than the gun ever could?

"Oh," the policeman sighed, blushing. "Sorry about that."

I ignored the part of my brain that was frantically screaming '_Boyfriend! She said boyfriend! **Boyfriend!**_' in either joy or horror (I didn't really have a clue), and focused instead on the kidnapped cheerleader upstairs. "It's cool. Look, do you have a blanket and a first-aid kit in your car? She's not doing so hot."

The cop nodded and rushed around the car, and Jess came running up to me. "Did she say anything? Like about who did it, or anything?"

"Not a word," I told her. "All she'll talk about is how they – whoever they are – will be back soon, and how we're all going to be sorry when that happens."

"Yeah?" Jess sighed, running a hand through her hair, looking incredibly weary. "Well, I'm already sorry."

I couldn't help but agree.

The officer – Deputy Mullins – was as useless as I was, but it didn't really matter, because before barely any time had passed, the EMT's had arrived, swarming all over the place with equipment and making us leave – not that I minded. I was more than glad to escape that bathroom. I had no intention of going in there – or in that house – ever again.

Or, at least, that was how I felt until I saw what awaited us outside. Then I was more than willing to go back in, and even sit down in that bathtub with Heather, like Jess had been doing before.

Because Jess's very own FBI pair was walking toward us, badges flashing in the light of the ambulance's headlights.

"Jessica," Johnson said with what, to anyone else at any other time, might have been a pleasant smile, "Mr. Wilkins. Will you two come with us, please?"


	5. Chapter 5

To my ever-patient readers: how long has it been since I updated? Three... techincally, four days now. Oh, you poor things. I'm so sorry. I've been too busy stressing out about/studying for/probably failing tests all week to write a thing. Forgive me, please!

On the plus side, not writing for so long has given me the opportunity to sort of build up several very nice reviews... But I prefer writing faster, as I'm sure all of you do.

Speaking of reviews...

**Jade: **I'm never, ever, ever giving Rob up... so don't even think about stealing him away. I will protect him as furiously as I protect chocolate cake from my dorm-mates, and that's pretty darn ferocious. Trust me. I had some today, and I'm still recovering. :) As for critical-ness, I totally won't get annoyed at you if you become all critical on me, don't worry. I can be pretty critical myself. It's one of the reasons all my chapters are so nice, grammar-wise, and it also plays a part in my insane need to use the **exact same** events, words, even **punctuation** (in spoken parts) from the book, because I want it to be **_realistic_.** And I suppose I can't fault you for not weeping everywhere like some DID (damsel-in-distress). For one thing, you lack the necessary handkerchiefs and prince (at least I'm assuming so). And for another... you said you love my story more! Awwww! ... I know, right?! It's such a nasty, evil school for depriving me. But there is the creative writing minor. And I've got an English major, which is as close as I can get. No, not a math major, are you insane? I'm practically failing my required College Algebra course! And, nah, I don't mind telling you. I mean, if you turn out to be the freaky old guy across the street who has been treated to a couple of accidental strip-teases when I forget to close my blinds, and show up tomorrow talking about how you **knew** it was me who was writing that awesome fanfiction, and do I want to come over to your house so I can see the stuff you've got saved on your computer - **THEN** I would regret telling you. But something tells me you aren't creepy-old-guy. Please don't prove me wrong. (I'm only joking, don't be offended by me basically insinuating that you're an old male pervert, please). ...Okay, I've totally gone on too long and started babbling, so I'm going to stop now so you can read the story, because that's obviously what you're really here for. Sorry!

- P.S. - Devoted? Eek! That makes me do a very odd happy dance!

On to the story!

* * *

I had been sitting in a waiting room in the police station with Jess's parents for almost an hour, and the tension was getting unbearable.

Maybe I should explain just how I got into that position; it started, as usual, with one of Jess's visions. That, and Heather being tied up in a bathtub with a broken arm. Oh yeah, and two FBI Agents I'm not very fond of, just happening to find us there amidst all the ambulances and police cruisers.

They'd – ever so politely – invited us back to the police station, and were even nice enough to give us a police escort, one car in front and one car behind us, just in case I decided to make a run for it, I guess. Jess and I didn't even get a time to formulate a story we could share, they were so fast. The moment I pulled up outside the station, my mortal enemy Johnson was right there, smiling – not quite nastily, but definitely not in a friendly way – at us and leading me to an interview room. His much-nicer partner, Special Agent Smith, led Jess off in the opposite direction. We just had time for a quick, worried glance over our respective shoulders, before Johnson led me into a room and pointed out a chair for me.

And then began the questioning.

It was incredibly boring, frankly, and mostly consisted of uncomfortable-but-expected questions, such as "Just how did you and Miss Mastriani manage to happen across the missing girl?", "Why were you in the woods at three in the morning?", and my personal favorite, "Do you have an alibi for the previous murder?"

Yeah, accuse me of homicide, _that_'ll make me talk.

In the end, though, I sort of got the short end of the stick, questioning-wise. I mean, yeah, I had _Johnson_ questioning me, a guy who not only didn't like me, but who had pointed a gun at me and accused me of blowing up his car not even a month ago.

As you can imagine, the interview was a little tense.

But I made up a pretty decent cover story, short-notice, anyway – we went to the quarry to look for Heather, and just _happened_ to chance across Heather, beaten and tied up in a bathtub in the middle of a creepy shack that was, itself, in the middle of some pretty creepy woods… at two-thirty-AM. Okay, maybe not the _best_ cover story, but I'm pretty sure it was better than whatever Jess had made up. One thing I'd noticed since last spring was that, when backed into a corner, Jess tended to say something completely ridiculous and obviously untrue, and then stubbornly stick to it. Denying it, or pointing out the all the completely logical ways her story could be proved wrong only made her more determined.

While that particular character trait was rather handy when insisting she was no longer psychic to a pair of Feds, it was less successful when crafting a cover story for a situation like this, especially when there had already been one similar situation over the summer.

Still, they had no definite _proof_ that her – or my, for that matter – story was incorrect, which I'm sure annoyed the hell out of them. Johnson especially didn't seem to like the way I smiled innocently at him after finishing my tale for the third time; – he seemed to have a habit of repeating the exact same questions in slightly different ways, probably hoping that I would slip up and say something inconsistent with my original story – he didn't offer me any of the coffee he was drinking, _that's_ for sure.

Not that I needed coffee to stay awake; I was pretty much on an adrenaline rush, left over from finding the half-dead cheerleader. But he could have _offered_, at least.

Anyway, as I was saying, Jess was questioned much more than me. Of course, my alibi was checked up on for the last murder, which meant that they called both my mother and a bunch of my co-workers from the garage, which in turn meant I'd have a lot of people wanting to know what was going on later – but they called both of Jess's _parents_, and made them come down to the station. Not to mention, they were still questioning her almost an hour after they finished with me.

Which brings me back to what I was saying in the first place: after an hour sitting in a basically-silent room, with only Jess's parents – to whom I'd never been introduced – for company, I was beginning to contemplate going back and willingly giving up the whole story to the hated Johnson, just to get away from them.

I mean, don't get me wrong, they weren't sitting there _glaring_ at me, or anything, but… These were Jess's _parents!_ And they were Townies. And this was the first time they were seeing me: at three in the morning, in a police station, having been told that their daughter and I had found and saved the life of a girl who'd been kidnapped the previous day. Not to mention, they'd had to have seen my Indian outside when they came in. And, of course, they knew I was a Grit.

Oh yeah, and I'd met Jess's dad once before, at his restaurant, where I took an envelope containing 10,000 – _cash_ – from him.

And I was complaining because Jess didn't want them to know about me? If they knew anything more, they'd be running me out of town!

Mrs. Mastriaini had gotten into a nice little habit of staring at the ground, then the door beyond which Jess was, somewhere, then looking at the floor again, then – oh-so-casually – glancing around the room, somehow lingering on _me_, then at her husband, the door again… and the floor again. And... repeat.

Mr. Mastriani seemed much less curious, not to mention a lot calmer, but he was the one I was really worried about. He just… _sat_ there. It was incredibly unnerving.

So, by the time Jess finally emerged from the door, glaring straight ahead and practically vibrating with rage, calling me _relieved_ would be an understatement.

Her mom stood nervously as she passed us, calling out her name. "Jessica!" Then she caught up to her and pounced, wrapping her arms around the somewhat shocked-looking Jess. "Jess, are you all right?"

I could see Jess's face clearly over her mom's shoulder – she was blinking, all anger replaced by confusion. I slowly stood. I would have preferred to have been able to talk to her myself, but it was pretty obvious I wasn't going to get the chance, not with her parents there.

"What happened?" her mother babbled, "Why did they keep you in there for so long? They said something about you finding a girl – another cheerleader. What's this all about? And what on earth were you doing out so late?"

Poor Jess. She obviously wasn't as close to her parents as I was with my mom, and as a result, she had to endure… well, _this._

I grinned when she rolled her eyes at me, and then, without really thinking about it, mouthed, "Call me," over her mom's shoulder.

Then I left.

Almost as soon as I got on my bike, I started berating myself. Why did I say that? Or – more accurately – mouth it? I thought I was encouraging her _not_ to call me! _Not_ to chase after me! _Not_ to…

Except, I really wasn't, was I? Driving home, I thought back over my behavior this past day, and was dismayed to realize that I really hadn't acted in a distant way at all. First, I'd been eagerly awaiting her phone call – and then, when I found out she hadn't called, because she'd been on a _date_, I'd immediately raced over to her house to confront her. And then I'd gotten visibly jealous in front of her…

Of course, after that there was the whole Heather thing, but that didn't really count one way or another. Yeah, I'd gotten kind of protective, but hey, I really don't think anyone could blame me, considering the circumstances. And at least I hadn't picked her up upside-down again.

But my mind kept straying back to our conversation before Jess remembered her vision… our unresolved argument over whether or not Mark Leskowski had murdered his girlfriend – and the fact that he was already taking Jess out.

What was she, _blind?_ It was _obvious_ the jock had done it, why the hell did she feel the need to protect him? I remembered her words from earlier, _"The Feds are after him, now, see, so we have a lot in common."_

Jess actually believed that she and that idiot were similar. God. Well, maybe she was right. Yeah, they were perfectly matched; the Feds were after them both, they both liked romantic candle-lit dinners, neither of them cared that much about their significant others, if killing them or going out on dates with other guys was any indication, and they were the same age.

The perfect couple.

I growled under my breath, kicking the speed up a notch – which might not have been a smart move in daylight, since I was already going 30mph over the speed limit, but it was dark and the streets were deserted – and viciously shaking my head to clear it of these thoughts.

Jess had said it herself, she didn't like Mark. I needed to stop obsessing about it, and start worrying more about what the whole deal with the people kidnapping cheerleaders meant.

…But I just couldn't help it, no matter how I tried to think of something else, my mind always ended back up on, '_she went out with another guy –_', until I finally just gave in and let the thought reach its conclusion: ' _– how could she just cheat on her boyfriend like that?_'

And then I remembered. I'd forgotten, in all the confusion, what Jess had said. But she _had_ said it, to the cop. I don't think she'd even noticed that she'd said it, but she had. She'd told him to leave her boyfriend alone – _her __**boyfriend.**_

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe, and steer, which resulted in me nearly driving off the road before I regained control and slowed down a little. _God._ _Boyfriend._ What should I do? Should I confront her about it? Just pretend it never happened?

Accept it?

No – _No,_ I couldn't just accept it. I _couldn't_. I'd been denying and avoiding it for almost half a year now, I couldn't just suddenly change my mind and start calling Jess my girlfriend and taking her out on dates.

"My girlfriend…" I couldn't help but say it aloud, even if the sound was lost in my motorcycle engine and the wind, just to feel the word in my mouth. "My girlfriend, Jess."

Shit – _shit_, that felt good.

I sighed wearily as I pulled up outside of my house, and slowly made my way in. I already knew that I wasn't going to get any sleep, now that the idea had entered my head – already, having spoken the words, I was getting mental images, of places I could take her, if I just gave in dated her, the freedom to actually kiss her when I wanted to, the look on her face if I actually called her my girlfriend to her face…

It was going to be a long, sleepless night.

Sneaking through the dark house, I finally laid down in my bed, only to jump up when I sat on something that crinkled. I pulled out a piece of paper, and saw my mom's familiar handwriting on it.

_Rob,_

_I'm going back to bed now, but in the morning you and I are going to have a nice, long talk about exactly why the police called me at three in the morning for an alibi just now._

And an even longer day.


	6. Chapter 6

Hi everybody! New chapter for you... And pretty please comment on Rob's mom/the last paragraph. Did I do a good job with her? Should I have added that last sentence at all, or was it overkill? Enjoy!

Oh, yeah, and Lollipop Land is thriving again!! Cathycalamitous has started **reviewing!** I'm so happy I'm bouncing around in my Bed Of Inspiration (TM). SHE'S BACK! This chapter is dedicated to you, Cathy!!

* * *

Much to my surprise, I fell asleep almost as soon as I hit the bed. Of course, since I had gotten home at almost 5AM – I probably only beat the sunrise by about an hour – I didn't exactly get much sleep.

My alarm woke me at seven o'clock, and I got up right away, if only because I didn't want to miss work, on top of having submitted many of my co-workers – and my boss – to a late-night phone call from the police.

Of course, someone else a lot closer to home had been treated to a call as well, and I knew that she was waiting for answers downstairs.

I took a quick shower, before stumbling downstairs, still yawning a little and very grateful for the coffee Mom pressed into my hands as soon as I walked into the kitchen. She smiled at me, and pointed to the table without a word.

There are many things that Mary Wilkins is, but a prying, strict parent is not one of them, and I was incredibly grateful for that all through breakfast. Despite her note last night, she didn't actually _ask_ me anything at all. Of course, we ended up having that nice, long talk anyway; it was just instigated by me.

"Um, I'm really sorry about last night," I began, as I was washing the dishes. I had strategically offered to do the chore today, because it would give me a perfectly logical excuse to avoid Mom's eyes.

I could tell she was watching me, but she didn't say anything. "I'm not even a suspect or anything – it was just standard procedure," I added, quoting Johnson from when I'd asked him if I was a suspect. Of course, the way _he_ said it made me think that, while he knew the words to be true, he wouldn't exactly mind if that wasn't the real reason he was investigating me. He really doesn't like me.

"And why," My mom finally spoke, "would the police _need_ to check your alibi, even as standard procedure?"

I winced. "Well… you know, how you told me Mastriani was back last night? You said you saw her, with – you know, that _guy_."

I looked up, and saw Mom was trying hard not to grin. "Yes…?"

"Well, after I said goodnight, I decided to… To go visit her, and say, uh, hi."

Instantly, the grin was gone. "You went to 'say, uh, hi' at two in the _morning?_ What were you thinking, Rob? She has school today!"

I reached desperately for another plate and began scrubbing hard. I was pretty sure I was blushing. "I wasn't?" I mumbled, and I heard Mom sigh. I cleared my throat and continued, still scrubbing away, "So, I was there when Mastriani realized where Heather was."

"Heather Montrose? That poor girl that was kidnapped yesterday?"

I nodded. "Yeah. So, I gave her a ride, and we drove down to the quarries to make sure Jess was right. And she was. Heather was there, so we called the cops, and they called the EMTs, and then they took us down to the station for questioning. That's all."

Phrased like that, the story was considerably less exciting than it had been in the flesh, but it was still interesting enough to make Mom pause for thought. "Oh. Well… _Oh._ I hope – is she okay?"

I shrugged. "She had a broken arm. And she was in shock… The EMTs said she would have died by now if we hadn't found her."

"Oh, honey," Mom put her hand on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry. Are _you_ alright? And how is Jess – leave the dishes alone Rob, talk to me."

I sighed, and turned around. "Jess is fine. I'm fine. Really."

Mom smiled. "And how are the _two_ of you?"

I blinked, and raised an eyebrow at her. "I already said we were both fine. Jess's parents took her home."

"Oh, Rob." My mom looked at me kind of pityingly, before shaking her head. "How did that go?"

I shrugged, "She didn't introduce me."

"She's not ashamed of you, Rob. You know that, right?"

At _that_, I looked up at her, but my mom was just smiling at me. "I know that," I said warily. "I mean, it's not like she has anything to be ashamed of in the first place. We aren't even dating, Mom, you know that."

Mom was doing the trying-not-to-grin thing again. "Of course not."

I looked away again and ran a hand through my hair, feeling like Mom could quite clearly read my mind and knew just what I'd been thinking about when I got home. "Um, I gotta go to work."

"Right," Mom said, still sounding like she was trying not to laugh. "You go ahead, I'll finish the dishes. You don't want to be late."

I said a hasty goodbye and raced out the door, making it to the garage just in time. Of course, there were all the standard questions, but it didn't take long until things calmed down. Wendell, in particular, kept bugging me – he works at my uncle's garage too, although he's not a full-time employee like me, just three days a week and then only half-days – but just a few glares shut him up. I'm still bigger than him, not to mention I'm a better employee and kind of informally one of his bosses.

At some point during the day, I'd lost my watch, which was kind of annoying. I couldn't find it anywhere, and I couldn't help but wonder if I'd dropped it in the woods somewhere. Thinking of the _woods_ then made me think of Jess. I couldn't help but wonder how she was doing.

And somehow, idly wondering about her turned into driving over to the school I'd so recently escaped on my lunch break.

I don't know what was _wrong_ with me. The, you know – _word_ – from last night kept echoing in my head, but I refused to acknowledge it. I was just worried about how she was doing, what with her parents and all.

Really, that was it.

When I drove into the student lot in the middle of the day, to see Jess surrounded by a crowd of eager cheerleaders and the other members of the popular groups, I couldn't help but grin. She looked completely bemused by all the attention.

I pulled up next to Jess and took off my helmet, interrupting her conversation with a little birdlike cheerleader. The other students were at least far enough away to give us privacy, but they were all pretty openly staring. Now I remembered why I hated high school.

"Hey," I said, "Just the person I wanted to see. How are you doing?"

Jess smiled warmly at me, but didn't jump up and hug me or anything, like she had last night when she first saw me. I guess she noticed everyone watching, too. Well, either that or my stunned reaction last time had made her think that hugging me was a bad idea in general.

"Hi," she said. "I'm fine. How are you?"

I sighed and got off the bike, running a nervous hand though my hair. This seemed to be happening more and more, lately. "I'm okay, I guess," I said, not really looking at her. "You're the one who got the third degree, not me. First from the Feds and then from your parents. Or am I wrong about that?"

"Oh no," Jess grinned, "You're right. They weren't too happy. None of them. Allan and Jill _and_ Joe and Toni."

I grinned at her familiar use of the Feds' first names, "That's what I thought. So I figured I'd come over on my lunch break" – totally a lie, I had _planned_ on getting a cruller from next door and then taking a short ride on my Indian, not going anywhere, specifically _here_ – "and, you know, see if you were all right. But you seem fine."

I looked at her properly, for the first time since I'd gotten there, and blinked in shock, my mouth suddenly going dry. I looked Jess up and down, taking in her unusual attire of an actual _skirt_, a black shirt that kind of made a 'V' shape, a lot more revealing than most of her t-shirts, and some sandals that made her a lot taller.

_God_, what was she trying to _do_ to me?

I swallowed, and spoke, trying to sound normal. "More than fine, actually. You dressed up for any particular reason?"

"Oh," Jess shrugged, looking down at herself, then back at me. I couldn't help but look down at her too, although it was a little harder for me to lift my gaze up to hers. "Just, you know. Making an effort this year. Trying to stay out of trouble."

So what, troublejeans? Whatever. The effort was worth it. Totally, _completely_ worth it.

I glared at the stupid skirt. "I don't see that happening real soon, Mastriani." _But I do see y– _God, I needed a distraction.

I tore my eyes away from the legs that were _right_ – _in front_ – _of me_, and happened to catch sight of my watch on her wrist as I looked up.

Bingo. Distraction.

"Hey. Is that my watch?"

"Oh, yeah," Jess said, using her familiar 'nothing' voice, which meant that she definitely hadn't _just_ noticed it, no matter what she said. "You loaned it to me last night. Remember?"

"Now I do," I scowled, still annoyed by the skirt and low-cut shirt. "I was looking everywhere for that. Hand it over."

She sighed sadly, and did so, with an annoyed, "Here you go."

I frowned at her, not getting the sudden change in attitude, as I put it on. "Do you like this watch or something? Do you want one like it?"

"No," Jess sighed sadly, looking wistfully at it, now back on my wrist. "Not really."

"Because I could get you one," I told her, noticing her still looking at it. "If you want. But I would think you'd want, you know, one of those ladies' watches. This one looks kind of stupid on you." God, I'm such a _great_ boyfriend, going around insulting her all the time. All I _meant_ was that it didn't exactly match with her, you know, new clothes, and it was a little big for her wrist, and… Oh, hell, it _did_ look stupid.

"I don't want a watch," Jess told me, in a longing sort of way.

"Well," I frowned. "Okay. If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

I blinked at her for another couple of seconds, completely confused. What was up with her and the watch? "You're kind of weird," I told her, "You know that, don't you?"

...And there I went again. At least I wasn't lying to her. And she didn't seem to mind; or at least, she didn't say anything, just kind of shook her head at me.

"Well, look, I have to get back," I told her, before stopping. "You stay out of trouble. Leave the police work to the professionals, understand? And call me, okay?"

"Sure," Jess said compliantly, and I almost grinned before it hit me:

_Compliantly?_

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked suspiciously. Jess was acting very, very oddly… even for her. Maybe it was the skirt.

"Yeah," she said, sounding anything but.

Well, okay then.

I should probably have left then. It wasn't like Jess was telling me what was wrong, or even admitting that something _was_ wrong. And I really did need to go back to work. My lunch break was almost over.

But I just stood there, and looked at her. She looked back, and there was a long moment during which I fought with myself, trying to resist the urge to kiss her – and not just because of her stupid clothes, either. Somehow, knowing that most of the student body of Ernie Pyle High was watching made me want to just kiss her, just to prove that she was mine.

Maybe Mark was watching, too.

I swallowed again, rolled my eyes, and – completely giving up on appearing uninterested – said, "Aw, screw it," reaching forward to wrap a hand around her neck and quickly kiss the top of her head, taking a second to notice that she smelled a lot like vanilla.

And then I got on my bike and drove off, not giving her the time to say a word.

Because I really was _screwed._ My mom had apparently known it before I had, which would easily explain the stuff she'd been saying this morning – especially her asking how the _two_ of us were.

But I hadn't really realized it until just now, when I had the inexplicable, and irresistible, urge to prove to all the students gathered outside that Jess was _mine_ and none of them could touch her, no matter how much they might want to, considering her new outfit.

That urge had awakened me to the painful reality of my situation: as of now, I was officially chasing after Jess. I had driven over to visit her as soon as I learned she was back, I had told her to call me, I had then driven over in the middle of the day to visit her before she even got the _chance_ to call me, and told her to call me again, I had kissed her (albeit on the head) in front of a large group of people – and I had called myself her boyfriend.

It was in my head, yeah, but it was pretty undeniable by now, no matter how much I tried to deny it, how true it was becoming in reality.

And not only that, but how much I was chasing after Jess. And it all stemmed from the same source: Jess hadn't called me.

If Jess had just called me, upon arriving home, then I would never have felt like I needed to prove that I liked her; I never would have felt like I had to compete with _Mark Leskowski_, and I never would have had to realize that we really were dating, no matter what I said.

And I would never have known that what I felt for her was a lot more than a crush. What it was, was something that ran a lot deeper, and what I'd thought I felt before, was just touching the surface.

I dropped two wrenches and a pipe on my foot that day, and was absolutely no use to anyone; I noticed Wendell smirking at me from across the room.


	7. Chapter 7

Okay, sorry about the forever delay (a week). It has been hectic. Not to mention, this chapter was really hard for me to start. I had a lot of trouble with the beginning bit, so feedback on that specifically would be appreciated. Also, as another excuse for not updating, just in case any of you hate me now, my roommate gave me some nasty cold or something, so I've been going around sniffling and coughing up my lungs all week. Pity me... Oh yeah, and I have some seriously weird mood swings when I'm sick (earlier today I cried, stared at a wall for five minutes straight, and went into an insane laughing fit withing fifteen minutes of each-other), so if this chapter seems a little... off now and then, forgive me. I've never written something while I was sick before, so... We'll have to see.

Anonymous Reviewers:

**Jade:** Okay, let's see... First off, Rob will NEVER run to you! He's mine! All mine! _My precious..._ Ahem. Trust me, the dorms are okay at times, but when, like now, everyone is sick, it's like a death-trap. Last year, their was SOMEONE with the flu in my dorm for nearly two months straight! They just kept passing it back and forth, and back and forth... Yeah, but there is the parent benefit. Although... I suppose mine are nice, too... Sadly, I have no more cake. I ate it all, which is a shame, because I could really use some right now. :( Grammar/spelling, and so on... They've always come to me naturally. But don't even try asking me what the direct object is or whatever, 'cause I suck at that crap. Hmm... I love Rob's mom. I do. She's just so much fun to write... And yeah, I suppose the dropping stuff was a little silly, but I **really** wanted to include Wendell smirking at him, and I needed a reason. Rob will forgive me, I'm sure. Yeah, I hate math. It's an indisputable fact. Math + Me Ugh. And thank god you're not the old dude. He's just... creepy. :)

**Jade and Cathy - yes, both of you! **Tsk tsk tsk. Shame on both of you. No fights over my story, got it? You are BOTH free to enjoy it and be awesome and review me a lot, and you each get your very own VIP reviewer spotlight, so no need to steal the other's. That being said, it is pretty funny. ;)

**Sarah:** No, you haven't reviewed yet, but that doesn't mean I'm not glad to receive a belated one! Especially when you start out by pointing out that you love my stories (and me). That always gets me friendly. And yeeeaah... I know what you mean... There isn't that much 1-800 fanfic, and what there is... Some of it's good, but a lot is... yeah. (I echo your no offense, BTW!) And Rob and his mom are just... awesome. Seriously. Yeah, I can't wait for _Missing You_ either - just one more chapter after this, and then one more book, and then I'll be there! As for other stories about 1-800... I'm not sure. I hope so, but at the moment I don't have any ideas - well, one, but it's just for a short drabble, not a full-length story. But thanks for the support! And I totally understand about running low on good fanfic... Trust me, I hear ya. And don't worry: even if I can't promise 1-800, I most definitely WILL keep writing. Thanks for the awesome review, Sarah! I hope for more in the future!

**Aleisha:** I know your only review was actually for TGIL, and it was nearly a week ago, but you said you planned on reading the next two so I figured you'd eventually find this response. So... yeah. Thanks for the awesomes, and if you just give me a new review or PM from your new account I'd love to be ..fRiEnDs, as you put it. :) And of course Meg's awesome. That's just a given. :D

Okay, sorry for the really long A/N guys, but here it is! The one and only! The moment you've all been waiting for! Chapterrrrrrrrrrr **Seven!!**

Read and enjoy. :)

* * *

That evening was slightly awkward, mainly because my mom wanted to talk about Jess. I, of course, wanted to talk about anything _but_ Jess. The combination of these two things resulted in some very weird, stilted conversation, usually started by my mom, with me shoveling food in my mouth every time she asked a question, so I couldn't answer it.

I guess, after a while, she got the message, and she finally stopped talking to me about it. In fact, she gave up on talking to me at all, and soon I was left alone with my thoughts.

Needless to say, I didn't _want_ to be left alone with my thoughts.

God, I tried everything – I mean _everything._ Working on my bike, watching TV, reading a book, taking a shower, trying to go to sleep, eating a snack, trying to go to sleep, working on my bike, trying to go to sleep…

I think it was almost three AM before I finally drifted off – and then it was to a very disturbing dream involving me and Jess and dates and eventually her dad.

I woke up in a sweat, and I can't say I was feeling lucky at the time, but I decided later that I was at least luckier than Jess. At least when I woke up in the middle of the night, it wasn't to hear that my... whatever – well, my family doesn't really have something that's the equivalent of Mastriani's, but you get what I mean – had burnt down.

Of course, at the time I was thinking about anything but fires, and I just rolled over and punched my pillow a couple of times and cursed Jess a few, too – then I took it back and cursed my parole officer instead – before drifting back off to sleep.

Somehow, when I woke up the next morning, I managed to avoid thinking about Jess for a good half-hour. Maybe that was only because I was so tired and not really coherent until I'd gotten some coffee, but whatever it was, I managed to get up, showered, dressed, and eat most of my breakfast before her name popped into my head.

And it literally did pop into my head. I was just finishing off a bite of bacon, when suddenly I thought, _Jess!_

My next thought consisted of two words: _Oh, crap._

And just like that, I couldn't stop thinking about her. Oh, I _tried_, just like the night before, but I was no more successful than then. I wasn't as bad as I had been immediately after my epiphany – meaning I could actually do work and I didn't drop anything… thank god, one day of that was bad enough – but she was still in my head, all day.

Seriously. I would be working on something, and I would think, _Okay, so I just need to adjust this – Maybe if I talked to Jess, and told her that I really do like her, we could just wait – no, focus, Rob. Tighten that a little bit more – but I can't ask her to wait for me, that wouldn't be fair…_

I mean it. All day long. It was incredibly frustrating; I really just wanted to hit something until I stopped thinking about her… Either that or seek her out and tell her exactly how I felt; screw my conscience.

Obviously, the second option didn't win out, in large part because I _do_ have a conscience, but also simply because I didn't really know what I would tell her. I liked her… more than liked her. I knew I liked her way more than just a crush, and it wasn't just lust or something, but I wasn't in love with her or anything, right? I was just… I just… cared. Deeply.

I could picture taking Jess out on an incredibly romantic date, and ending the evening by tenderly telling her, _"I __**care deeply**__ about you, Jess."_ Oh yeah, that sounded just _great_.

Seriously, the English language is lacking a very important word for somewhere in between like and love. The space in the middle – where I was convinced I now was – was just killing me for lack of definition.

However, if that was how my entire day went, it would have gotten old pretty fast; the thing that made it interesting, and diverted me from worrying about my "_feelings_", as some people would put it – at least for the moment, anyway - was finding out about Mastriani's.

I think I may have been the last person in town to know, only finding out about it around lunchtime. I live in a small town, and news travels incredibly fast. My mom had probably found out earlier that morning, on her way to work, and as for the rest of the people in town who hadn't seen the wreck themselves… well, like I said, news travels fast. It was the talk of the town, especially since it had somehow leaked out that it might have been intentional.

I just happened to hear this right after my lunch break, though, so I couldn't drive over and see if Jess was okay as soon as I wanted to. I had to finish work first – but that didn't stop me worrying.

Yeah, I know. It's kind of ironic that all of my relationship worries were driven out of my head so that I could worry over the person whom I'd been worrying about. Ironic, and little confusing.

But really, everyone had to know by now that Jess had found Heather. They might not know about me, because I'm not in the public spotlight as much as she is – _I've_ never been struck by lightning – but the news that she'd found Heather would have definitely spread by now.

So, when I heard that Mastriani's had been burnt down, and there was a rumor someone had done it on purpose, I immediately – and correctly – guessed that whoever had killed Amber and kidnapped Heather was behind it. And I admit, I thought of Mark.

Not just because I was jealous. I wasn't even jealous, really… Okay, so I might have been a little jealous. And I might have been a little eager to believe the worst about him. But the fact is, I'd known Mark Leskowski had killed his girlfriend even before Heather went missing; before Jess had even gotten back home, and definitely before I'd learned they went out on a date.

However, despite thinking it was Mark, I still thought that Jess would be safe at school. Neither of the other girls had gotten hurt or gone missing during a school day, and besides, the school administrators were already suspicious of him, if what Jess said about the Feds being after him too was true. So I doubted he'd try anything.

That's not to say I wasn't _worried_, though, so when I got off work, I went straight to Ernie Pyle, getting there just as the bell rang.

I had parked out front, and I was waiting by the flagpole when the students began to stream out of the main doors. I don't consider myself a coward, and I knew I'd been part of that crowd for four years straight – but it was still slightly terrifying watching so many teenagers rushing _straight at me_.

But I was taller than them, most anyway, and besides, I had more important things on my mind, so I just stood there and let everyone stream around me, a few people giving me curious looks, but most ignoring me. I ignored them, too, focusing on the main doors and waiting until I saw Jess walking out.

At first, I was so glad to see her okay – I knew she wasn't hurt in the fire, because I'd asked, but it was one thing hearing it and knowing it logically, and another thing entirely to _see_ it – that I didn't notice anything off about her. "Jess," I cried, when I saw her, and she got close enough to hear me, worried enough to use her first name out loud. "Oh, my God. I heard what happened last night. Are you okay?"

I was somewhat shocked when, instead of stopping when she reached me, she marched right on past with a simple, "I'm fine."

I stared for a second, then started walking with her, noticing for the first time how odd she looked. Not odd as in wearing a kilt or something – although she did have another skirt on – but odd as in walking very determinedly towards something, not really seeming to even notice me – she might have been mad at me, but I doubted it. What had I done to get mad about? Except for kissing her in front of everyone yesterday. But I'd thought she didn't mind. Crap, if she was mad about that, then I was in _trouble_ – and cradling in her arms what looked like a pink sweater.

_What the…?_

"Mastriani, what's the matter with you?" I asked, maybe not quite conveying all the tender worry that was behind the statement. She didn't appear to be offended by my wording, however, so I continued, "Where are you going?"

"There's something I have to do," Jess said, still not looking at me, and my heart sunk. I don't know what I'd been thinking – she was very upset because someone had insulted her sweater and she was on the way to kick their ass? She'd gotten in trouble for something that wasn't her fault and the sweater was her fat friend's (whatever it was, the sweater made it harder to guess) – but that answer instantly destroyed any hope I'd had of it not being related to the girls.

The only time I had ever heard Jess say that had been over the summer. Granted, her words last time had been slightly different - _"I've got some unfinished business down here."_ – but the tone was the same, and the meaning was, too; she might be saying she had 'something to do', but what she really _meant_ was that their was a missing kid, and she was going to go save them, no matter what anybody said.

But who was missing now?

"What do you have to do?" I asked, because even if I knew her general meaning, I'd still prefer specifics – and then, "Mastriani, why are we _here?_"

_Here_ was the football field, where Jess had been so hurriedly walking to when I'd joined her. She was leading me into the middle of it, straight towards the football team in the middle, ready for practice. The cheerleaders were also on the field – holding tryouts to replace Amber, it looked like – staring at us.

I should have gotten it right then, especially since I'd always suspected Mark Leskowski, but I didn't exactly remember that he was on the team – football doesn't really interest me – and I was still pretty confused.

"Jess," I tried one more time, "What is the matter with you? You're acting really weird. Weirder than usual, even."

I'm sure Mastriani really appreciates the way I take time out of every day to call her weird, but she didn't bother to tell me so. Well, I assume she wouldn't have bothered. She didn't exactly get the chance to reply, what with the football coach looking up and seeing us.

"Mastriani, he yelled at her, "What are you doing here? Are you here for tryouts?"

I shrugged helplessly, but Jess didn't answer. She was looking around the field – and I should have gotten it _then_, at least, but it still failed to dawn on me.

"If you ain't here for the tryouts, get off the field," Coach Albright yelled. "I don't need you around, making my boys nervous."

I found it slightly amusing that he felt the need to worry about 'his boys' getting nervous whenever Mastriani was around, considering that every single one of them was at least a foot taller than her, but I didn't comment.

Jess didn't either, turning and rushing off towards someone. I followed her, and when he said, "Jess, what's up?" in surprise, and looked at her, then me, then back to her, it finally hit me what was going on.

Jess was here for Mark Leskowski.

Of course, I didn't know what had prompted this sudden switch of ideas, or why Jess was going after him _now_, like _this_ – but I didn't really care. All I could think was, _thank god I'm here._

Jess may very well possess the ability to make an entire football team nervous, but that doesn't mean she'd be able to hold her own against them – because even if they weren't involved, they would surely take their teammate's side – once they went from nervous to mad, and I doubted the coach or cheerleaders would be much help to her in the almost inevitable fight.

Jess held out a hand. "Give them to me."

Mark just smiled at her, completely ignoring me and apparently not taking the odd request seriously. "What are you talking about?"

"You know," Jess ground out. I had never heard her sound so angry, yet calm – maybe even a little sad. "You know good and well."

Hmm. This didn't sound good.

"What's going on over here? Mark, is this girl giving you a hard time?" And just like that, we were joined by Coach Albright, most of the other footballers, and several cheerleaders. Just great.

"No, Coach, she's cool," Mark said, still smiling. He was seriously underestimating Jess. I almost felt the need to warn him. "Jess, what's going on?"

"You know what's going on," Jess said, in that same voice as before. "You all know." She looked around us at the other members of the football team. "Every last one of you knows."

Well, _that_ was definitely not happy news.

One of them blinked, looking confused, "_I_ don't know," but he seemed to be the odd one out.

"Shut up, Mintz," another guy told him, glaring at Jess.

The Coach was still oblivious. "Look, I don't know what this is about, but if you got a problem with one of my players, Mastriani, you bring it to me during office hours. You do not interrupt practice – "

Before I could even finish thinking, _screw practice_, Jess had stepped forward and punched Mark in the gut.

It was actually very interesting. I'd heard about her, and everything, but I'd never seen her in action up close. She really _did_ have a good arm, I admired. Mark fell right to his knees.

"Now give me," Jess told him steely, "your car keys."

Of course, he was a football player, so despite the pretty nice hit, he swiftly recovered, and lunged at her. Of course, I caught him halfway there, and had him in a headlock before he knew what had happened. He really shouldn't have forgotten about me.

Coach Albright was blowing hard on his whistle, but we all ignored him.

Unfortunately, there were more than one football player for us to deal with; the guy who'd told Mintz to shut up, reached forward and picked Jess up. Why he picked her up, exactly, I wasn't sure, but I wasn't pleased that he'd managed it. However, Mintz, an unexpected but welcome ally, stepped forward, grabbed him by the Adam's apple, and squeezed.

The first guy dropped Jess pretty quickly after that, and by the time I noticed the keys that had fallen to the ground and picked them up, she was back on the ground again. "Mastriani," I called to her, and tossed them.

Jess caught them one-handed, then spun around, heading for the parking lot. I followed, even though that meant dragging Mark along too. Everyone else followed us, in weird sort of parade.

"You can't do this," Mark yelled from under my arm. "This is illegal. Illegal search and seizure. That's what this is."

I rolled my eyes at him, and yanked on him, so that he tripped, and nearly fell over. "Consider yourself under citizen's arrest."

Jess led us to a BMW, not far from her friend's car. Said friend was standing right there, too, and when she saw Jess, she cried out in relief. "Oh, my God. There you are. I've been looking all over for you. What's…"

Then she trailed off as she looked past Jess and happened to see me and Mark, along with the rest of the Ernie Pyle's football team and cheerleaders. She met my eyes for a brief moment, and I couldn't contain a smirk at the expression on her face.

"This is _bullshit_," Mark screamed at the top of his lungs, as if that made him appear any less guilty. I had let go of him when we stopped moving, and he was glancing around him in a panic.

Coach Albright was the only person, in the quickly-developing crowd, that seemed to be equally indignant for him. "Mastriani," he yelled again, "You put those keys down…"

Jess ignored him, of course, instead sticking the key in the trunk of Mark's BMW without a single word. At that, Mark tried to run, but I'd been expecting something like that, so I just reached out and grabbed him by the back of his shirt, holding him still. It wasn't really hard, no offense to our football team.

"Let me go," he yelled, struggling ineffectually. "Lemme fucking go!"

I didn't bother to answer, watching as Jess turned the key, and popped the BMW's trunk. The guy who'd tried to pick Jess up also attempted to run, but Mintz stopped him again, and that was how we all were when the Feds arrived.

Us holding back the murderers, a stunned crowd gathered around us, and Jess lying half-in, half-out, of Mark's trunk, trying to save the life of their latest victim.


	8. Chapter 8

Well, this is it. With this chapter, I have officially completed over half the series.

Wow.

I don't want to give you all another incredibly long author's note to read through, so I'll just say this: I am still very sick, and this chapter was written at 1:30-4:00 AM. Just to warn you. I am proofreading it before I post it, but... just in case.

That said, I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

There really isn't that much more to tell. Claire Lippman, who was apparently Jess's next-door neighbor, and who I recognized from all those days in detention spent watching the drama club, was rushed off to the hospital, and Johnson and Special Agent Smith took Mark and the other guy – Jeff Day – into police custody.

Jess told me the whole story – or, more accurately, I was there when she gave her report to the police. I also had to tell them everything, which was pretty tedious. But at least it wasn't the middle of the night this time.

Basically, what I gathered was that Amber Mackey – Mark's girlfriend, the one he killed – was pregnant, and so he killed her so she and the kid wouldn't get in the way of his football career. Then, when the Feds seemed to be closing in on him, he had his friend Jeff kidnap Heather while he was out with Jess, so he'd have a valid alibi (I couldn't help but feel triumphant about that – I'd known all along that he was no good of course, but it was highly gratifying to hear that he never even liked Jess). And then (this part was fuzzier) he went after Claire because she had figured everything out, and was going to tell Jess. Jess ended up "figuring everything out" too (translation: figuring the general stuff out, and having a vision that Claire was in his trunk), and well, I was there for the rest of it.

I don't know. The whole thing just seemed a little… anticlimactic to me. I mean, sure, there was that big dramatic discovery moment where we all saved Claire's life, and caught Mark Leskowski, and all, but even so…

I guess I was just a little used to it by now. Maybe I'm too cynical or whatever the word is – jaded – but all the excitement was lost on me this time around. I mean, been there, done that. Well, not with the cheerleader murdering, but everything else – the whole crime-solving thing, getting a gun pointed at me, being questioned at length by guys in suits, guys trying to hurt Jess…

Really, the only novel things about this whole adventure were that the bad guys were teenagers, and, of course, my epiphany about more-than-just-liking Jess. And the first one of those wasn't really interesting to me. The second, of course, was more than enough to keep me up at night, as I'd demonstrated the previous night. But that wasn't really related to the whole murder/kidnappings situation.

I guess the real reason that I felt so unaffected, even bored, by the whole thing was that… well, it really just didn't live up to my expectations. That sounds kind of sick, but that shack in the woods had been pretty damn creepy. Not to mention Heather, being so traumatized, and the arson of Mastriani's…

I just expected _more_; I mean, Mark Leskowski was the ringleader behind it all! We took him down with a single punch (from Jess), a headlock, and just grabbing onto the back of his shirt (done by yours truly). And his friend Jeff was even easier. In fact, he started crying and confessing as soon as the cops got there. I'm glad that they were easy to capture and all, but come on! I was _holding the back of his shirt!_

Yeah.

Anyway, I was kind of ignored again, just kind of lost in the shuffle. After I finished telling all I knew, with the exception of any visions on Jess's part, I was basically free to go. I tried to hang around a little longer – I wanted to see Jess – but it was getting kind of hectic, what with the entire football team and all the cheerleaders being witnesses, not to mention The Bitch – by then my official title for Ruth, in my head anyway – and her brother, and all their parents having to be called, and Claire getting sent to the hospital, and her parents being called, and since the whole thing happened at Ernie Pyle, everyone had been relocated to the guidance counselor's office for the moment, so we had several members of the administration there too; luckily Principal Feeney escapes at the bell just like most students, so he wasn't there to annoy everyone. But, as a trade-off, Coach Albright was still there.

I admit, it was pretty funny watching the teacher who had annoyed me most throughout my entire high-school career – we weren't on as close terms as he and Mastriani, but I had a few run-ins with him, through Health class and a fight or two with various members of his team – be so utterly speechless. But, on the other hand, it was kind of sad. I mean, I may hate him, but I have to admit that the coach really did love 'his boys'. Not that they were all that great – I'd be willing to call them okay at best, and I don't even like football – but he was incredibly protective of them, and it had to suck to find out that two members of his beloved team were murderers. Especially since they were the first guys he'd had on the team in a while that were better than just 'okay'.

So, all these people were milling about in the waiting room, talking to each-other all excitedly, and rather loudly, and Jess and a few other people were locked up in the office. And then, in what seemed like a completely random move, The Bitch walked over to me.

I was leaning against the wall in a corner of the room, somewhat separated from everyone else; I'm not sure if it was because I was a Grit, unlike every single other person there, or because I'd been the one to get Mark, or if I looked particularly annoyed or whatever, but I'd been given a pretty wide berth.

So, when she walked right up to me, it was a little disconcerting. I straightened up and raised an eyebrow at her. I might not be willing to become bestest friends, but I figured I could at least not insult her, for Jess's sake. And with that goal in mind, staying silent seemed like a good plan.

"Look," she said straight away, looking pretty uncomfortable. "Jess… likes you."

I narrowed my eyes. I _knew_ that. And I wasn't sure I liked where this conversation was going.

She seemed like she was waiting for an answer, but when I didn't say anything, she continued anyway; "And, I don't know just how much you like her, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to know, but…"

But…?

She glanced over her shoulder as if to make sure no one was watching, and then she leaned in a little closer. "But, well… I _don't_ like you, okay?"

That was it? That was all she'd come over to say? Well, that was kind of pointless. It had been obvious she disliked me since we first met. As obvious, probably, as my dislike for her.

I finally spoke. "What's your point?"

The Bitch sighed, and looked like she'd rather be doing pretty much anything else – but then she glanced back at someone behind her, and when she turned back, she looked determined. "My point is – I might not like _you_, but I'd much prefer it if Jess goes with you than if she goes out with my brother!"

I blinked. "_What?_" My voice was maybe just a little bit too sharp, because she flinched, but I think I had reason to be upset. I mean, come on! First there was Dave over the summer, then Mark, and now this other guy who I knew nothing about (except the vague, but disturbing, memory that when we'd first met Jess had said she was dating a guy whose dad was a lawyer, like The Bitch's dad was)… What was this, some sort of conspiracy? As soon as I managed to cross someone off my mental guys-to-worry-about list, a new one popped up.

I briefly considered that maybe I should apologize for the way I'd spoken, but I decided against it. It wasn't like I was really sorry, anyway. On the contrary; her startled little jump was actually kind of amusing.

"He asked her out on a date for Saturday, and her mom made her agree. I mean, she doesn't like him, but her mom does." The Bitch made a face. "Just because he's supposed to end up a rich lawyer and stuff doesn't change the fact that Skip's a total geek. And besides, he's my _brother_ – "

"Wait," I interrupted. "Your brother's name is _Skip?_"

She glared at me. "So?"

_Do not laugh. Do **not** laugh._

I managed to keep a straight face, but I got the feeling that my lips were twitching. Can you really blame me, though? "Nothing."

The Bitch huffed – yes, _huffed_ – but she continued anyway, "I need to get him to back off, and I know that if _I _just tell him not to go out with her, he might not listen, and Jess's mom will make her go out with him, so," she took a deep breath, "I need your help."

I raised an eyebrow. Maybe I was hallucinating. I mean, seriously, what were the odds of The Bitch having a brother named _Skip_, and wanting my help?

"You need… _my_… help?"

She nodded, looking annoyed. "If Jess and I can tell Skip that she actually likes another guy, then he'll leave her alone. And… I really don't want them going out. It's just… gross."

I was forced to agree.

"Okay…" I said slowly – and that was how I ended up here.

The Bitch told me that they were going to the hospital later, to see Claire, and that I could probably meet them there, rather than waiting at the school for God-knows how long. She also implied that my being there would be a good lead-in into the Jess-would-never-date-Skip conversation, and that she would be able to prevent even the first date.

Maybe she wasn't such a bitch after all, I thought as I drove around, killing time while I waited.

…Nah.

I stopped at home for a little while, just long enough to have a short conversation with my mom – I told her all about catching Mark and Jeff and saving Claire, and she told me how Jess's dad had converted his other restaurant, Joe Junior's, to waitress-only, which meant that Mom wouldn't lose her job.

Maybe he wasn't exactly pleasant dream material, and he could sure get mad when forced to give up several grand to a guy he doesn't know, but I had to admit: Joe Mastriani was a pretty good guy.

I left after we shared our news, just taking an extra moment to run upstairs and get my watch, and I'd only been waiting outside the hospital for about fifteen minutes when Jess, The Bitch, and _Skip_ came out.

Huh. He looked really – well… Let's just say I wasn't surprised that Jess didn't like him. He just didn't seem like a very – I'll stop before I say something too nasty.

When I noticed them – I had been watching the sunset – I straightened up and gave Jess a wave. She grinned back at me in return before turning back to the other two and saying something.

_Skip_'s – I just couldn't resist emphasizing the name. It _had_ to be a nickname. But… why? Why would he ever voluntarily go by _Skip?_ – face fell at once, and he looked over at me, with what seemed like it wanted to be a glare, but really looked more like a wounded-puppy face.

I had no sympathy. My glare was far from wounded-puppy.

Jess patted _Skip_ – okay, I really had to try to stop doing that, it would be very awkward if I ever had to actually say his name out loud – on the arm, and The Bitch proceeded to drag him away. He didn't resist, looking sad but somewhat resigned. The Bitch looked back at me, somewhat resentfully, but with a mostly relieved face, and flashed me a small smile, which I took to mean he'd been successfully scared away.

Well, glad _that_ had been cleared up.

Jess walked over to me, a nervous little smile on her face. "Hey."

"Hey," I returned, smiling openly. "How are you doing?"

"Oh," she sighed, and shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

Normally, I might have been feeling awkward at this point, and rationalizing to myself all sorts of excuses for the conversation, and coming up with reasons why I should back off, but, strangely enough, I wasn't. In fact, I felt perfectly comfortable. Relaxed, even. At peace.

What I'm saying is that, right about then, I realized I'd already made a decision. I was going to stop backing off, and just admit it, even if only to myself (I couldn't exactly tell my parole officer): I was dating Jess. When I'd decided this, I wasn't sure, but as for _why_, well… I had several reasons.

**1)** I was getting pretty sick of having to constantly scare guys off without Jess noticing. It was frustrating, and a whole lot of hassle and stress would be removed from my life if I just acknowledged straight off that I was her boyfriend. And she would probably stop accepting offers to go out with murderers and guys named _Skip_, too.

**2) **I'd already kissed her in front of pretty much the entire high school's study body, anyway.

**3) **Maybe my mom would stop laughing at me – yeah, I'd noticed that all right.

**4) **She had worn a skirt the past two days in a row. And those V-type shirts. What, you think I didn't notice? I _am_ a guy, you know.

**5) **Just because it would probably annoy Johnson.

**6) **And last but not least, my _real_ reason: I really, _really_ liked Jess. More-than-liked, in fact. And frankly, now that I'd finally realized that, it was much, much harder to pretend that I didn't like her. And it was much, much easier to just… give in. We were already pretty much dating anyway.

So, due to all of this, instead of feeling all worried and conflicted about the conversation, instead I just felt… happy.

I liked it.

"How about Claire?" I asked.

"Oh, Claire's going to be fine," Jess said, with a slight scowl. I almost asked, but changed my mind at the last minute. I wasn't really sure I wanted to know.

"Thanks to you," I grinned, and luckily she started smiling again.

"And you." Jess returned the compliment. "I mean, you kept Mark from getting away."

"That was nothing," I said – and I wasn't being modest. I meant it. Literally. For such a tall guy... "Anyway, I stopped by to see if you wanted a ride home." _And to get rid of __**Skip**__…_ "Do you?"

Jess looked a little taken aback for a moment, but never stopped smiling. "You bet. Hey, did your mom tell you about my dad's scheme to keep all the staff from Mastriani's on payroll while the new restaurant's being built? He's converting Joe Junior's from counter service to waitress-only service."

From anyone else, a comment like that might have offended me – I might have thought I was being talked down to – but this was Jess.

So I just smiled and turned around to get her helmet – technically my extra helmet, but I'd been referring to it as _Jess's helmet_ in my head for months now. No wonder my mom laughs at me – and replied, "She told me. Your dad's a good guy."

Which in turn reminded me, somewhat redundantly, that I was dating the daughter of my mom's boss. Hmm. That was a little… Oh well. Too bad.

Still looking for the helmet, something else caught my eye, and I smiled. "Oh, hey, here, I almost forgot."

I turned around and dropped my watch into her hands. Jess stared at it, shocked. "But," she protested, "this is your watch."

I turned back to the search for the helmet. I was not blushing. This did not count as gift-giving. And neither did the fact that I hadn't asked for her to give back the old leather jacket I'd loaned her, either. I wasn't that soft. Really.

"Yeah," I said, "I know it's my watch. I thought you wanted it."

"But what are you going to use?" I heard her ask, as I finally pulled the helmet out of the compartment and closed it.

"I don't know," I said, "I'll make do." I turned around to give her the helmet – and maybe take back the watch, if she really didn't want it; it wasn't like I cared, or anything – only to see her standing there, with it already strapped on, despite her protests.

I shook my head, bemused. "You really _are_ weird. Do you know that?"

Jess just smiled. "Yes," and then she stepped forward, and leaned up with the obvious intent of kissing me…

I have to say, I wasn't opposed to the idea. I thought it a kind of fitting way to start off my new, no-longer-in-denial relationship with her. And… okay, I just wanted to kiss her.

But we got interrupted right at the last minute, by an annoying, official-sounding voice. "Uh, Miss Mastriani?"

Jess immediately dropped back to the ground, and she turned to stare at him. I, on the other hand, chose to glare. Not to sound to needy, or anything, but I hadn't kissed Jess in _months_, since before she left for camp! _Once_, on the head yesterday. And yeah, it was kind of my fault that we hadn't kissed – but still! I finally decided that I was actually unopposed to kissing her – and some guy just comes up and interrupts us!

Yup, I was glaring.

And, well, it didn't help matters that he looked so ridiculous. He was standing outside a typically "unobtrusive" four-door sedan with tinted windows – where had I seen _that_ before? – and was wearing, believe it or not, a _trench coat_ and hat.

I get that he wanted to seem all important and spy-like and everything, but a trench coat, really? And it was pretty hot outside, too.

I sighed, and got on my bike, pulling my helmet on. Since it appeared that no kissing was going to happen any time soon, I figured a swift escape might be the next best option.

"Miss Mastriani," he said, in that same very self-important, official voice that so many Feds seem to have, "I am Cyrus Krantz, director of Special Operations with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I happen to be Special Agent Johnson and Smith's immediate supervisor."

It was clear, from the way he said it, that he was very proud of himself, and expected us to be impressed by this. So it was mildly amusing when Jess's response was a flat: "Yeah. So?"

Unfortunately, Cyrus Krantz wasn't easily upset, it seemed. "So," he replied, "I'd like a word with you."

Jess appeared to be of the same mind as me, because she followed my lead, putting on her helmet and climbing on the Indian behind me, even as she replied to him. "Everything I've got to say, I've already told Jill and Allan. Ask them about it. They'll tell you."

This, apparently, miffed Mr. Krantz more than Jess's earlier rudeness had. "I have asked _Special Agents_ Johnson and Smith about it," he said, emphasizing the titles pointedly, "I found their answers to my questions unsatisfactory, which is why I've had them removed from your case, Miss Mastriani. You will now be dealing with me, and me alone. So – "

Jess lifted up her visor in shock. I admit to being shocked myself. "You _what?_"

"I have removed them from your case," Cyrus Krantz repeated in a smug voice. "Their handling of you has, in my opinion, been amateurish and entirely unfocused. What is clearly needed in your case, Miss Mastriani, is not kid gloves, but an iron fist."

Whoa. That was pretty harsh. I mean, I might not _like_ Johnson, but that didn't mean I thought he was 'amateurish and unfocused'. If anything, he was exactly the opposite. Having been questioned by him more than once, I think I could safely say that he was extremely professional, and focused to a fault. I mean, I think he was _still_ trying to get me to confess about blowing up that van (even though I hadn't) when he questioned me the other night, and it had been months ago. That shows commitment.

Not to mention, that whole bit about Jess needing an 'iron fist'? Yeah, that was just a little disturbing. Maybe even worrying. What exactly did he mean by that? I wasn't just going to stand by and let him do I don't even _know_ what to her. I mean, Mastriani was already being spied on, followed, and somewhat frequently and thoroughly questioned. If that was kid gloves, what exactly was an iron fist?

Jess was still staring at Cyrus, shocked. "You fired Allan and Jill?"

Yeah, 'bout that… I wasn't exactly happy about _that_ either. I mean, sure, Johnson was annoying, but Special Agent Smith was pretty nice, considering, and at least neither of them ever ignored me. Krantz hadn't so much as glanced at me once, this entire time. I mean, yeah, I hadn't said a word, and his attention was pretty focused on Jess, but come on. I'm not invisible! I would have at least gotten a smile from Special Agent Smith and a nod or glare or something from Johnson by now.

No. I didn't like Krantz at all. I was appreciating Johnson more by the second; you never know what you've got until it's gone. I _did_ know what he'd been replaced with, though: Krantz was a smug ass.

Using a tone filled with the aforementioned smugness, Krantz repeated yet again, "I've removed them from your case." Then he turned and opened the rear door of the van behind him. "Now, get into this car, Miss Mastriani, so that you can be taken to our regional headquarters for questioning about your involvement in the Mark Leskowski case."

Okay, _that_ wasn't at all creepy.

Jess's arms, which had snaked around my waist in preparation for our pretty much inevitable flight, tightened in what I was pretty sure was fear. And honestly, who could blame her?

"Am I under arrest?" she asked nervously.

"No," Krantz replied, and for the first time, he frowned, obviously just now taking in the fact that Jess was on a motorcycle, ready to go, and not hopping into the van like he'd ordered. "But you are a material witness in possession of vital – "

Jess didn't let him finish. "Good," she said, and I heard her snap her visor down. "Go, Rob."

It goes without saying that I was pleased to do so.

So, maybe the start of my Jess-denial-proof life didn't start out quite the way I wanted it to. And it appeared that annoying Johnson with dating Jess was no longer an option. Instead, I was going to be lucky enough to have to deal with this Krantz guy, who was infinitely worse.

But even so, I can't say I was in a bad mood. Especially since, when I dropped Jess off at the corner of her street, I finally got a real, long kiss. And a sort-of date for Saturday – I knew she wasn't going out with _Skip_ now, but I still couldn't resist.

I was smiling all the way home, probably very sappily, and in a way that would make Wendell fall over laughing; but I didn't really care. I was feeling pretty good about myself.

_Yeah,_ I thought, thinking back to the kiss, and the expression on Jess's face when I'd – sort of – asked her out. _Yeah. This is gonna be good._

* * *

I have several chapter notes I wanted to make, but didn't put above because they'd give something away, so... here goes (in order of appearance/what comes to mind):

**The famous list!** - In her review of the first chapter, Cathy requested (well, actually, more mentioned that it would be nice) the list to show up in this story at some point, and so I finally added it in. If you want an update, all the people that have been on it at various times are as follows: Dave, Scott (although Rob never learns his name), Mark, and Skip.

_**Skip**_ - Just, come on. Skip's name is _weird_. I've always wondered. And you think Rob wouldn't mock him for it? He didn't even like the name _Nate!_

**The Bitch** - I just thought it would be funny. You know, Ruth calls Rob The Jerk, he calls her The Bitch... Well, _I_ think it's funny.

**The whole conversation with Ruth** - I know there's no hint of it in the book, but I've always wondered about how Ruth, who hates Rob, is so pro-Rob at the end of _SH_. So, this is what I came up with. And hey, it gave me an excuse to bring in the list and The Bitch!

**"Not exactly pleasant dream material"** - just in case you were wondering, in that sentence I was referring to chapter 7, where I said, and I quote: "_I think it was almost three AM before I finally drifted off – and then it was to a very disturbing dream involving me and Jess and dates and eventually her dad._" In other words, Rob had a dream in which he was somewhere with Jess and her dad showed up all angry. I think this very plausible, considering how Rob thought that the sirens in _CNC_ were Jess's dad with a klaxon.

**The old leather jacket** - Yeah, I bet none of you noticed this! I admit, I didn't at first. But, when I was writing this, it occurred to me that after Rob gave her his extra jacket at the creepy shack, _and never got it back!_ We know Jess brought it home... And I quote: **"I'd found his watch, a heavy black one, covered with buttons that did weird things like tell the time in Nicaragua and stuff, in the pocket of his leather jacket - a jacket that was now hanging in a place of honor off one of my bedposts." (page 180)**. That's the last time it's ever mentioned... But come on, you think Rob noticed a missing watch but not his coat?

And... those are all my specific notes. Hope you enjoyed the whole of TGILNASH, because it's officially over! I hope to start the next book soon (the first or maybe second chapter's gonna be a doozie! Jess says the magic words!) so I won't be gone for long... But I still expect lots of reviews!


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